The Wrong Bus

This morning I went through my normal morning routine of walking to the library after dropping Jenn off at school. After stopping at Subway to get a breakfast flatbread sandwich, I arrived at the Mid-Manhattan library ready to work. I sat down across from a man who didn’t look very happy. There was a wooden divider in between us so I merely smiled, sat down and went on about my business of getting my computer ready. As I was adjusting my feet under the desk I moved one of them forward in order to cross my feet and bumped something. I looked under the table and the man’s foot was stretched out far beyond the halfway point of the table. I decided to let it go thinking he might move them but he did not.

After this I knew I needed to be careful, so I did my best to keep my feet under my chair. Before I finished ten minutes of work, the troubled man got up and started complaining, “I can’t stand you people. Make me sick to my stomach!” I looked up at him, confused and he repeated what he said, but louder and was aiming his comment at me. I just stared blank faced at him as he walked away repeating the same thing to himself, and emphasizing the word “sick.”

I was trying to understand what he meant by “you people” so I raised out of my chair to see, and there was no one behind or next to where he was sitting. I really couldn’t think of anything I had done wrong, unless perhaps he thought I was rude. I did smile at him before I sat down, but I have never had someone get angry over that. The only other thing I could come up with was that it was racial. I was trying to forget about it, but my past experience with angry young men in the library was not great so I decided it would be best if I just leave and not even check to see if the man was still there.

I packed up my things and went over to the Schwarzman building off 42nd to finish the work I had set out to do. Upon arrival, there was plenty of room and I sat down to work. I found myself in a zone and realized that I could finish before lunch what I first thought was going to take all day. Once I finished the work, I found myself in a dilemma. I needed to eat my sandwich and I would have to leave my spot to do it. The library had become crowded and I assumed that I would not have a decent spot to work after lunch. I packed up my things again and went outside to eat my sandwich and do some reading.

At this point, it was about 1:00, which gave me over three hours to work before Jenn got out of class. Since the Schwarzman was crowded and getting thicker with tourists, I needed a place to work for the afternoon. One bad experience at Mid-Manhattan was enough for the day, so I decided I would take a bus back down to 20th street and work at the library there. The library is located between 5th and 6th Avenues and is a block from Jenn’s school. It is a small library that caters to deaf and blind people and is always calmer than the larger ones.

There are five different buses that I could take that would take me down Fifth Avenue and I boarded the first one that arrived in front of the Schwarzman building. The bus made a turn on 34th Street and I knew I was misinformed. Looking at the sign, I realized that I was on the M4 bus and it was the one bus that did not travel down 5th Avenue as far as I needed to go. Instead of hopping off the bus, I rode it out to Penn Station where it parked on 31st Street off 7th Avenue. Frequently when things like this happen, I go with the flow and find there is a reason.

I walked down 7th Avenue toward 20th Street. I hadn’t been all the way down Fashion Ave as it is called, and if nothing else, I would get to see some new scenery. 20th Avenue arrived and nothing had proved my suspicions correct. I turned left on 20th and became lost in thought. About halfway down the block, I heard a man yell, “Luke!” I looked across the street and saw a taller man in his forties carrying a toddler. Again he screamed, this time in a booming voice, “LUKE!!” I began to wonder if he was calling for a dog or a child. A nearby construction crew stopped and noticed the man yelling as they were working inside the street. Luke’s owner began walking back toward Seventh Avenue, calling his name several more times. I turned around to see if he had found what eluded him, but my view was obstructed.

I returned to my thoughts as I approached the intersection of 20th Street and 6th Avenue. At the intersection I saw a little boy on a scooter begin to cry as a lady was visibly trying to see what was wrong. “I can’t find my dad.” The confusion in the lady’s face told me she had not heard Luke’s father’s frantic cry for his son. I confirmed that the boy was indeed Luke and pointed toward the way his father had gone. It seemed Luke had wandered ahead of his father; yet, his father chose to go backwards to find him.

While waiting for a chance to cross the street, I looked and listened down 20th street for Luke's father. I couldn't see or hear anything and I escorted Luke across the street and pointed in the general direction of where his father had walked minutes prior. I followed close behind Luke as he scooted down the sidewalk while the lady followed. I wanted to make sure they were reunited, but his father was nowhere to be seen. Luke stopped and looked back at me, and I told him I had seen him go down that way. Just as I was about to ask where they were staying, Luke’s father came rushing out of the building in front of him and began heading toward 7th Avenue. I pointed and Luke alerted his father that he was behind him. Still frantic, Luke's dad turned around and began questioning where he had been. I simply turned around calmly, smiled at the lady, and walked away thankful I had taken the wrong bus.